If you change your mind, I'll be first in line.

Guys, I think I might love Abba.

On Friday night, Mama D and I went and saw Mamma Mia. Here's something you may not know about Mama D: when she loves something, she loves it. She saw Mamma Mia in the theatres and told everyone how amazing it was. She was a one-woman ad campaign for that movie. So, what better way than to earn the love of my mother than to buy her tickets to the stage show?

I wasn't really expecting anything from the show that I hadn't seen before in the movie. My expectations were mostly lots of glitter, some spandex and a shit-ton of Abba.


Pretty much.

Mama D and I gussied up and headed off to the show. After finding our seats and procuring some wine, we settled in for the long haul. (And I mean long. The show was almost 3 hours. 3 HOURS!)

I'll admit it, I went in with a "this is probably going to be kind of lame, but Mama D will like it" attitude. I scoffed inside when the lady next to me practically gave birth because she was so pumped up during "Dancing Queen". I rolled my eyes in the dark when the family of four in front of us bobbed their heads along to every song like they were at a Metallica concert.

And then something happened. After the "Money, Money, Money" song, I found myself thinking, "Jeez, they really rocked the shit on that one." By the time "Take A Chance On Me" came on, it hit me: I was really enjoying the show. It may not be the most hard hitting material, but holy hell, is it catchy. I was like a junkie; Abba was the dirty needle and sweet, sweet glittered bell bottoms were my crack.

After the show, which may or may not have included dancing by Mama D and slight, uncomfortable swaying by yours truly, we headed home. As we got into our car, I fished Rex Grayskull out of my purse and scrolled around for something to listen to. Nothing seemed to fit the bill for what I wanted to hear. So I put it on shuffle and secretly cursed myself for not having any Abba.

You win, you silly Swedes. You win.

I've got good news and I've got bad news.

The bad news: my brain is splattered across a windshield somewhere and isn't very anxious to get back into my head. Or, to put it less dramatically, my thought box is broke, y'all. KV no en casa, if you catch my drift. In fact, I'm pretty sure if you had x-ray vision you would be able to see that the spot where my brain used to be is now occupied by a single, perfectly ripe banana.

A banana brain, if you will.

The good news: Garland and M are having a baby boy! Seh-weet. My soon-to-be-a-real-live-person nephew isn't due until September, but hot damn, I already want to buy the kid everything at Baby Gap, Babies R' Us, Baby Target, baby church rummage sale, baby swap meet, baby black market and pretty much any other location that sells goods that I can add the noun "baby" to. I'm determined to be someones Aunt Tina. Also, how could anyone possibly say no to these:



Is it weird that I just want to put them in my mouth?

A huge congrats and e-high five to Garland and M. But not to you, Brain. You know what you did.

We'll be back after this commercial break.

It's been an intense few days. There have been many things happening, many of which I'm choosing not to write about. It's not that I'm not comfortable sharing with everyone (what's a blog for, after all), it's that I think it might be somewhat disrespectful to the parties involved. So, there's that.

Because of the mysterious and vague aforementioned things, I'm way behind on school work and actual work. Turns out when something bad happens, you can't just ignore work and hopes it goes away. It piles up. PEOPLE DON'T DO YOUR WORK FOR YOU. I know, ridiculous.

So, because I actually have to be an adult for awhile, I'm taking a few more days off from blogging. But, on the plus side, I imported all the posts from my old blog, Second to a Sitcom. So if you're bored and need your daily (or twice daily. Don't be ashamed.) KV fix, check the archives. I haven't had time to clean things up or make it look like one, cohesive blog instead of two sister-blogs. Eh, I'll get to it.

Until next time.

Optimistic

This is the week.

The week where I can effectively leave everything and everyone behind to clear my head for a few days. The week where I can ignore all the bad things in my life in favor of good, once in a lifetime opportunities.

This is the week where all the insecurities about school and my job won't matter as much. I won't have to worry about if I'm good enough, smart enough, funny enough or worthy enough. I won't care about any of that this week because there are bigger, more important issues at hand.

This is the week where I won't analyze and worry about my relationships with people. I won't let tears slide on long drives home because I feel so empty. I won't be terrified of meeting new people and even more scared that I won't be able to keep new relationships going. I won't have to think about how surprisingly numbing it is to fall out of love with someone. I won't have to lay awake at night and wonder if it's worth it to wake up tomorrow.

This week, I am pushing that all aside. This week I am making the best out of what I have, even if it's not ideal, because I want to.

Someone said to me the other day that it was time to get in the game. This week, that advice makes perfect sense. I'm getting in the game.

This week, I gotta win one.

God, I love crab puffs.

Well, there's good news and bad news.

Bad news: I'm still a zombie. I partied like a middle-aged woman last night. Ate a bunch of Chinese food, unbuttoned my pants to make room for the food baby and watched Millionaire Matchmaker until 1 in the morning.

Party on, Wayne.

Good news: It's Good Friday. Which means that some of you assholes got the day off. You know who didn't get the day off?

This moi.*

Instead, I got to go play in the desert for five hours. Oh, and did I mention I got to use a sweet, super awesome, fancy pants camera? I didn't mention that? Well then I guess I also may have forgotten to mention that I didn't know how to do anything other than point and shoot. It took me ten minutes to figure out the flash.

I am available to do weddings, people.

That being said, Happy Easter everyone. Now go do something crazy in the name of Jesus. Amen.

*If you're wondering when I'm going to stop talking about 30 Rock, the answer is NEVER. Never, that is, unless I find out Tina Fey eats babies or I get distracted by a new show. Your move, network TV.

Day of the Dead: Puppies Redux

Beh-larg.

I am a zombie today. I don't mean that in the sense that I've recently eaten brains or have the urge to groan and stumble around, but rather I am feeling pretty dead today.

Example: a salesman came into our office and asked to speak with the head of our purchasing department. I know who the head is; I've spoken to the woman millions of times and I think I even have a picture of her kid somewhere in my home. But I couldn't piece it all together. Can. Not. Compute. So I stared at the phone list for five minutes before scratching my head and saying, "Uh, just leave me your card and I'll see that the right person gets it." The guy looked at me like a mongoloid, so to smooth things over I winked when he gave me his card. Winked. My own eye is trying to send SOS messages to strangers.

I don't really have anything to write about today. I've already admitted defeat and am content with being an undead, slightly hungry and mostly useless shell of a lady today.

So, because for some reason my brain can't think of anything else, here's a picture of puppies running:



Because everyone loves puppies.